Love and Molasses
by RosalindFranklin
Summary: It's 1918 and Jane is headed back to Boston after receiving a letter about her brother's death. Upon arriving she joins a relentless team - Frost, Susie, and one doctor she hasn't seen since the turn of the century - in the hunt for grisly serial killer, Charles Hoyt. Things aren't always as they seem. Slow burn Rizzles.
1. Chapter 1

It was September of 1918 and Jane Rizzoli was on the 20th Century Limited from Chicago to New York. Jane was headed home to Boston with a heavy heart, a troubled mind and an empty pocket. Fast trains didn't come cheap but her mother begged her to return home immediately and, though she would only admit it to herself, she had become somewhat lonesome without her expressive family nearby. Or what was left of it.

And with that thought, a deep, painful pang hit her in the chest.

Days earlier a letter arrived informing her of her brother's death. It was all she could do to keep from crying, breaking down entirely. No, she would wait until she arrived on her mother's doorstep to start mourning. She had been in Chicago for three long and lonely years and had been absent from her family, essentially abandoning them for a job in police work. She needed absolute proof that he was gone or she could not, would not believe it. Not Frankie Jr. He was too vibrant, too young.

The train was incredibly fast and sleek and ordinarily she would have been in complete awe of the tasteful extravagance of design and speed. Jane, however, was not mentally present. Her gaze was unwavering as she looked upon the landscape flying past, absorbed by her thoughts.

Her father had passed some years earlier leaving Angela, her mother, with two boys to care for; Jane had always taken care of herself. Frank Sr. had been a handyman at the Larz Anderson Estate and was the primary breadwinner. It was a stable job and provided the family with enough. When he passed, Frankie Jr. and Jane were relied upon to take care of their ma and that no-good dewdropper, Tommy. Now they were solely her responsibility.

Frankie Jr. and Jane steered their paths in similar directions; Jane moved to Chicago in 1915 to join the newly formed International Association of Policewomen and Frankie hopped over to New York and joined the police department there. While Jane was off fighting prostitution and dealing with runaways, due to her 'inherent womanly nurturing' qualities, Frankie caught murderers and rapists. She could easily get in a lather about society's disregard for women but it would do no good and, in fact, all considering, she was treated fairly within the police force. Still, Jane would have killed for a detective's badge and a chance at a murder investigation.

She sat drumming her fingers, absentmindedly admiring the red, plush carpet. She sighed heavily and closed her eyes, hoping all of this was a misunderstanding. In a few short hours she would be in New York picking up a few things of Frankie Jr.'s and then finding a way to Boston where she knew reality would hit her like a ton of bricks. She hoped she was ready.

* * *

The doctor sitting on the weatherworn park bench briskly brushed hair out of her eyes; the wind had picked up and was blowing honey colored strands that caught on her eyelashes. She was reading Walt Witman's _Leaves of Grass_, though the average passerby would not have cared to notice anything but her striking features. She was simply stunning.

Her hazel eyes scanned the passages with grace. One particular line had caught her eye and she felt conflicted.

_Has any one supposed it lucky to be born?  
I hasten to inform him or her, it is just as lucky to die, and I know it.  
-_Walt Witman, _Leaves of Grass_

Dr. Maura Isles had seen her fair share of death before the Spanish flu of 1918 arrived. When it did, it arrived in full force and took a lot of young lives with it. She supposed that it was only a natural way to keep check on the world's ever growing population but this particular flu did not play by the rules. Its victims were disproportionately of the young, hearty population.

Maura had seen death rear its ugly head far to many times and only a small portion of those deaths were ever peaceful. Yes, in some ways, she supposed the young men dying were lucky; the delirious fevers and cold chills that accompanied their sicknesses were enough to wish for an end.

The twinge of sorrow she felt quickly blew away with the next gust of wind.

After graduating from the London School of Medicine she moved to Charlotte, North Carolina where she dealt with outbreaks of malaria and typhoid in the civilian population. Her work was superior, so much so that she was offered an assistant surgical position at Camp Greene, the army base in Charlotte. She worked through the bitter cold winter of 1917, one of the coldest in noted history, and into the spring of 1918 before deciding it was time to move on.

It was a mutual agreement. Her superiors had displayed displeasure with her for quite some time. It had nothing to do with her work, which was outstanding as usual. It was because she had written the Hon. Sherman E. Burroughs, an old family friend and distinguished admiral in the navy, regarding the deplorable conditions of the camp. Dr. Isles was a firm believer in cleanliness and hygiene as a means for discouraging transference of germs and disease. It was simply common sense.

Ordinarily this was necessary but the need was even more desperate with the Spanish flu violently attacking the immune systems of the young and healthy. In a camp that housed forty thousand men, soldiers, it was simply inexcusable not to have a sewage system in place or any plans regarding one for the future. Unhygienic sludge ran in the streets. After arranging for an inspection by Admiral Burroughs she quietly bowed out. Later, he would deliver a scathing speech to the House of Representatives describing what he saw at Camp Greene.

Maura smiled softly, vividly remembering the notes Admiral Burroughs sent her.

_When the warm weather comes, as it is likely to come any time in this southern climate, it takes no sanitary engineer or expert to predict what is going to happen. Flies are going to breed there in enormous quantities, and typhoid fever and diphtheria are likely to break out at any time. Every one of those 40,000 men quartered in that camp will be in imminent peril of his life.  
_- Admiral Sherman E. Burroughs, _Speech at the_ House of Representatives, February 22, 1918_  
_  
So, she was off to Boston.

The Spanish flu had caught a second wind and was taking a heavy toll on the Northeast. Boston was hit particularly hard. Her mother resided there, as did many of her childhood colleagues. Friends. _No, colleagues,_ she firmly reminded herself.

Dr. Maura Isles was returning home.

* * *

**Hey, guys, this is my first fanfic! I loosely based Maura's life events off of a doctor in the late 1800s, early 1900s. The descriptions of the camp and speech by Admiral Burroughs actually happened and I have links for all of my sources if you are interested in checking them out. The title of this piece comes from a 1908 picture entitled, ****_Love and Molasses,_**** though I found little else on it. In the future there will be more dialogue. I just wanted to establish the setting and history.**

**Anyway, let me know what you think!**


	2. Chapter 2

An exhausted Maura sighed as the automobile puttered to a stop. The dapper old driver hopped out and offered his hand, which she took, and gracefully stepped down. The 1917 yellow Monroe Roadster was the newest addition to the collection her father had started and he was eager to send her about town.

The house in front of her, if you would call it a house, was intimidating to guests and staff alike. Old power radiated from the massive stone structure. Maura had long grown weary of its intimidation and instead regarded the building with wary, though not fearful, eyes.

After a few moments of pondering she mustered up the energy to approach the door. Under the cream brick archway a maid waited to welcome her home.

Another quiet sigh escaped her lips, this one filled with disappointment and very little surprise.

"May I take your coat, Miss Isles?" the maid asked politely with a Southern twang. She nervously avoided eye contact with the doctor.

"No, it is quite alright. I can find my own way from here, thank you."

"Mr. and Mrs. Isles will not be returning until tomorrow evening. If you need anything…" The maid's voice fell on deaf ears as Maura traced the familiar steps to her bedroom. She was not surprised by her parents' absence, though it still stung. The house felt larger and more lonesome without them.

As a young child she had been sought after for friendships and relationship ties, all to boost the importance of those using her. She understood; it was human nature after all. Her family carried heavy influence worldwide and often hosted dinner parties for foreign dignitaries and heads of state. The social pressures were immense for such a young child but she adapted quickly and acted many years older than she ever was.

She released the previous day's tension in her shoulders as she sat primly on the edge of her bed. Her mother had remembered to set out her favorite quilt, a sea blue one that was well worn.

Alone again and still in her crumpled travel clothes, she curled up and drifted off into a deep, dream-filled sleep.

* * *

Jane wrapped her father's jacket around her thin frame; the chilly Boston autumn was just beginning and the leaves were starting to turn. It was her favorite time year but even that would fail to lighten her mood. She was preoccupied to say the least.

The night she returned home she would likely never forget. Jane had always been able to contain her emotions, even when her pop died. But Frankie was her baby brother and he followed her around like a pup. She was the reason he became a detective. That influence was the reason he was dead.

_Jane walked up the familiar street with her life's possessions in two suitcases. Her eyes briefly scanned her surroundings before she turned up an alley and headed for her destination. The shadows slid off the buildings and alley cats screeched from their lookouts. She approached a worn, wooden door and knocked heavily. There was chaos sounding in background. A few minutes later it creaked open._

"Oh, Janie." Her mother pulled her in for a seemingly endless embrace. Fat teardrops rolled down her face and settled on her tattered shawl.

"Hey, ma. It's nice to see you, too."

"Come in, come in."

The young woman was ushered in to the dimly lit hallway. She followed her mother up the stairs and into their apartment. 'It's good to be home,' she thought, as she settled in.

Together they wept and mourned the young Frankie until the wee hours of the morning. Jane's mother, Angela, was heartbroken. She fell asleep in her daughter's lap, being cradled the way she had so frequently clutched Frankie as a child.

It had been a month since then and Jane was aching for work. Though the Association was supposed to make easier on women in police work, Jane had found herself practically laughed out of the precinct. She scowled at the memory.

_The lieutenant, a man by the name of Korsak was a jovial fellow. He had kind eyes and a round stature. He escorted her through the station, making small talk the entire time. Regardless, she heard the cutting remarks from the other officers and had no doubt that he heard them too. Not for the first time she wished she were a man. Yes, there was still hazing, but she would have had an equal opportunity to prove her worth._

Korsak surprised her that day, an occurrence that she noted because it happened rarely. After leading her into his office he abruptly turned on his heel and barked orders to the gaping young men. They immediately got to work as the door was shut.

'Now this is a man I could respect,' Jane thought before tuning into the old detective.

"Lazy bastards, ain't got nothin better to do than gawk," he muttered as he sat down at a cluttered desk.

He sighed and continued.  
  
_"Look, Jane, I'll level with ya. The old boys in Chicago told me great things about you. You had the best record on the force. Incredible. I'd love to hire you on the up-and-up as a detective but I can't. You heard what those fellas were sayin. I need efficiency, not distractions. Now, I got a position as a secretary I know you don't want, but it's either that or you partner with my man Barrold Frost. He works for me on the contracted cases I don't trust will be handled properly by the lads out there. What do you think?"_

Jane was unable to respond. On one hand, she was frustrated. She knew she could do a better job than any of the men in precinct and she knew that fact didn't matter. Out of pride alone she was close to declining. On the other hand, his honesty and demeanor were likeable traits. She knew she could trust him. His offer was also a close second to her dream.

Her silence was understood.

"Well, get in contact with Frost. You can have a couple days to mull over it."

He handed Jane a piece of paper with an address scrawled on it before showing her the door. The officers icily ignored her as she exited the building, blaming her for the reprimanding. 

Jane initially scoffed at the idea, thinking that no ordinary man would be willing to partner up with a woman. She was about to find out that it was true; Barrold Frost was no ordinary man.

* * *

There was a knock at the front door of his apartment. Frost had been phoned by Korsak to let him know a potential partner would be stopping by.

_"You better thank me for this one Frost. She's the best _you're_ gonna find," the old man warned._

Frost was unsure whether that was a compliment to the stranger or a dig at him. He'd have to find out.

He opened the door to a tall woman. She stood with confidence in her manly attire, like she was used to the garb. Her eyes were strikingly dark and analytical. He doubted much was lost on them and approved that she didn't bat an eyelash at the color of his skin. No, she merely soaked it in as she observed everything else around her.

"Detective Frost? I'm Jane Rizzoli. Korsak sent me."

"Come in. Can I get ya anything?"

"No. Thanks."

He could tell she was unsure of what to say or do next. He pointed to a worn couch and told her to make herself comfortable. He noticed her eyes dart around the room, once again boosting his confidence in this potential partner. Frost had met countless others that never seem to fit the bill. He knew Korsak was growing weary but when he talked to him earlier, the lieutenant sounded confident about this candidate. He could understand why.

He saw Jane's eyes come to rest on the table before her. It was filled with disorganized case files and promising leads. Before she could formulate a query, Frost was answering her unspoken questions.

"Korsak knows my father from back in the day. He offered me a chance when no one else would, taught me everything I know. He's a good man and a great judge of character." Frost flashed his brilliant grin.

"What kind of cases do you work?" Jane asked, ignoring his cocky boast. The kid was cute, she'd give him that much.

"Oh, a little bit of everything. Mainly the victims overlooked by high society – the poor, blacks, women of the night. The cases Korsak doesn't trust to the bulls down at the station. We go more unnoticed."

"We?"

"Yea, Susie and I. I was fortunate she was the product of one of my first cases. She's a smart one and I'd trust her with my life. We don't always play by the rules, Jane, and we're not expected to. It's a good job, though, despite the risks."

The black eyes were again filled with questions but he noticed restraint on the woman's face.

"How about we go get a drink. I'm thirsty." Frost gave an easy smile and walked toward the door. "The first is on me."

* * *

**Hey, guys! I failed to mention this in the first chapter but obviously I don't own the characters in any** **way. I hope you guys enjoy it and feel free to review it! That'd be rad!**

Happy new year!


	3. Chapter 3

Maura awoke suddenly. Her eyes hastily tried to make sense of her surroundings and, upon recognition, her panic subsided and heartbeat slowed. The first morning light caressed her face and caused her pupils to dilate. _Bleu de France,_ Maura thought as she observed the tint of color, _the backdrop for the fleur-de-lis of French kings._ It was perhaps her favorite time of day, just before the dawn completely broke free and woke the world.

It took her a few minutes to process the imagery replaying in her mind from the night before. Maura's dream was one she was quite familiar with, having dreamt it countless times in the past. It was more a memory than a dream, though distinguishing what her mind had altered over the years proved difficult. She was happy for the reprieve of loneliness, even if it was just her subconscious mind.

_Almost eighteen years previously, a raven-haired girl named Jane raced through garden hedges, trailed by a young Miss Isles. It was the beginning of a new year, 1901 to be exact, and the two teenagers were giddy with anticipation._

As church bells rang in the turn of the century and fireworks and loud cheers were heard all around Boston, Jane's shoe caught on a root and she tumbled into the snow. Unaware of the fate of the young woman ahead of her, Maura rounded the corner and stumbled over the lump and collapsed. Laughing, they rolled about, lightly tossing snow in each other's faces. Jane landed on top, her dark eyes glinting mischievously as they met hazel.

Maura's breath caught in her throat. How stunning was this creature above her?

The girls had met the previous summer on the Anderson estate. Larz and Isabel were dear friends of her parents' who had begged Maura to stay with them for the months her parents were in Europe. They had no children and were smitten with the young lady. Though she could hardly deny herself the pleasure on her summer vacation, she justified the burden she was placing on the Andersons by vowing to help with the upkeep of the library. Larz, a diplomat, had an incredible collection on foreign matters and the expansive gardens on their property left little to be desired.

Jane was the handyman's daughter. Upon first encounter, Maura was mesmerized. Jane was rough and used obscene language. She wore her father's old trousers, which had to be held up by suspenders – another article Maura assumed belonged to Jane's father, as he was quite round around the middle. She had unruly dark locks that matched her spirit and her eyes, but was also incredibly kind and gentle to Maura. They became fast friends – a new experience for the shy Maura, who was at once appalled and magnetized by this strange woman. 

Resigning herself to another lonely day, Maura shuttered the windows. She supposed her time would be better spent unpacking and preparing for her parents' arrival but she could not bring herself to stray from the bed, hopeful the dreams of Jane would return.

_That night in the snow, _she thought, then sighed heavily. Her eyes unfocused as she remembered the moment, one she had dreamt about so many times before.

_Jane's gaze darted down to her soft lips, reddened by the cold._

"Happy New Year, Maura," she whispered, before capturing a brief kiss. And with that, Jane had taken off like an arrow, running deeper into the gardens. Maura lay there stunned, letting her friend go, not knowing in that moment she would not see Jane again for another eighteen years.

* * *

__"So, how'd ya meet? Frost here said something about his first case?"

"That's a story for another time, Jane!" Frost yelled from the bar. He approached, slinging three glasses of beer on the table. "You, Miss Chang, are dancing with me."

Jane grinned at her partner as he grabbed his girl by the elbow. The joint they were in was dimly lit and smoky, filled with loud music and lots of dancing. The couple was quickly lost in the crowd. Jane, left at the table, drank deeply and sighed.

Within ten minutes at the bar, Barry had her convinced. Jane, ever the detective, had far less information on him than would have normally comforted her, but kindness and compassion radiated from Frost's being. He was quick and had a playful sense of humor. _He got away with it too_, Jane thought. _That damn smile._ In truth, Frost reminded her of her baby brother, Frankie.

She agreed before logic and lack of knowledge caught up with her. She went with her gut.

The lively band transitioned into another song as Barry returned, collapsing into a wooden chair. He openly gazed at Jane as she drank in her surroundings. He smirked, raised his pint, sloshing beer once again on the table, and said, "To new partnerships, Watson."

Jane scoffed. "If anything, _you_ would be Watson."

"Uh huh."

And with that, Jane was swept off to the dance floor, Barry grinning like a madman.

* * *

On her way home, Jane thought about how satisfying the evening had been. It was so easy to be around the two of them, quiet Susie and charming Frost, that her normal internal dialogue of interrogations had been calmed. She simply asked questions out of curiosity, not a need to analyze.

She walked up the dark alley to her ma's door, realizing it was alter than she imagined. Unlocking it, she groaned. The shadow of her mother was in the hallway. Her lightness dissipated.

"Janie, where have you been? Dio mio! I have been worried sick about you. This is how you treat your poor mother, after all I've been through? I lost my son to a night like this. He just… My heart can't take any more, Janie!"

Jane sighed and unexpectedly wrapped her arms around Angela.

"I know, ma. I know." She whispered, biting back the harsh response she was so known for.

* * *

**Getting ready for action.. I know it's slow going so far but give it a chance.**

Thanks! 


	4. Chapter 4

**Hey, guys! Please feel free to let me know what you think and/or any suggestions you have. :) I'm pretty pumped about the reviews and all.**

* * *

_"Drink up, Jane. We've got a case to solve tomorrow."_

A bleary eye opened and a groan escaped.

_Drink up indeed, _Jane huffed. It was still early but her mother making a ruckus in the kitchen. Jane got up and, wearing the same clothes from the previous night, grabbed her coat and stormed down the stairs shouting her goodbyes over her shoulder.

At her best, she was mildly pleasant in the morning, but with lack of sleep and one too many highballs the night before, Jane was a force to be reckoned with.

"What do we got?" she growled when Frost's door opened.

"Good morning, sunshine. I trust you slept well." Frost grinned, noting the scowl that Jane threw his way.

He had ushered his new partner in and pushed papers around, making room for her at the table. She slumped into a chair and started blindly rifling through the information.

"Well, as long as you're so eager to get started, a woman turned up outside the Watertown Arsenal manufacturing plant yesterday evening. She has yet to be identified. We still aren't officially on this, Jane, but Korsak wanted us to check it out, said something about a similar case in New York. The bulls are at the morgue, so if we're quick we can take a look at the scene. Hopefully it hasn't been trampled."

At the mention of New York, Jane visibly stiffened, a reaction that didn't get past Frost, though he did not ask. She doubted she would ever find it in her to forgive that city for what happened.

"Alright, let's get out of here."

* * *

The scene had little for them. The information they had compiled mostly came from Korsak. The body had been found at the water's edge and while cause of death was currently being investigated, it was most likely due to blood loss not drowning. There was no blood at the scene and, as far as they knew, no witnesses.

The two investigators turned away from the river basin. The large complex before them made up the Watertown Arsenal plant, owned and operated by the United States Army. Just north of where they stood were long, brick buildings that housed the forge and rough machine shops.

"Where do you want to start?"

* * *

After several hours of inquiring they decided a visit to the morgue was in need. The arrogant military men were wearing on the detectives' patience. One too many times Jane had to be held back from assaulting a man in uniform and it was then that Frost decided their effort would be best put to use elsewhere.

Frost loathed the morgue. The grim atmosphere paired with the grisly sight of death made his stomach turn. Though he hated it to be exposed, he had a sensitive soul. Pride and dignity forced him to face the morgue again and again, having been ridiculed his entire career.

Jane hopped off the streetcar and followed her partner across the street. She silently wondered what had been bothering him. He was unusually quiet. She figured in due time he would divulge his thoughts. She didn't have to wait long.

They climbed the whitewashed stone steps. Frost placed his palm on the door, holding it closed. He turned his head toward Jane, though his eyes remained elusive.

"Jane, I," he started. Clearing his throat he tried again. "It's hard…" He sighed. When he finally made eye contact Jane could see the unshed tears in his powerful gaze.

Jane placed her hand on his shoulder, offering what support she could. A wave of understanding passed between them. He squared his shoulders, opened the door, and walked into the Suffolk County Coroner's Court and Mortuary.

They trailed down a long hallway and made a few turns before entering the empty autopsy room. _Well, empty except for the corpse,_ she thought, grimly.

The body was bloated but there was hardly any doubt of the cause of death. The young woman's throat was slit, ear to ear, with surprisingly precise movements. _Not an amateur's work_. _The sick bastard knew what he was doing._

Jane edged around the table looking for more clues. Frost had stayed back, mentioning that Susie usually did this but that he would gladly take Jane's opinions.

She noticed bruising and tearing around the apex of the woman's legs, though to investigate further she would have to touch the body, an act that could wait for the technician.

"I would guess rape, though before or after her neck wound I couldn't say."

"Do you always guess, detective?" a smooth and distantly familiar voice sounded behind her.

Jane, startled by the woman's quiet approach, scoured her memory for its placement. She turned and found herself face-to-face with…

"Maura?" Jane whispered.

* * *

Dr. Isles received word not long after arriving home that there was an opening for a medical examiner at the city morgue. After a week of socializing with her distant parents she had decided it was time to dive into work and it seemed to be the perfect opportunity. While she typically worked on the living, the dead had a certain appeal.

She met a jovial Vince Korsak at the morgue her first day. He welcomed her warmly and promised as little interference as possible when it came to her work. She was glad to hear it; the politics of her last position wore her down and she was not entirely sure she could handle another stressful work situation.

Korsak introduced her to the many the technicians at hand but one girl, Susie, endeared herself to Maura instantly, though she was uncomfortable pinpointing why. If she were the type to speculate, she would have thought that it was because of Susie's quiet nature and similarities to the doctor in mannerisms and no-nonsense approach.

She had been working diligently for several hours on her latest case, a woman found in the Charles River Basin with a severe wound to the neck. As she worked, there were more frequent spasms in her back. She sighed, finishing her report. The brutes from the police department had come and gone; frustrated by the amount of time she took, they ordered her to call them when she had drawn her conclusions.

Maura heard the phone ring distantly and supposed it was time she call the officers. She left the morgue and walked the quiet hall to her new office.

When she returned, she was startled to see a young man waiting outside the open door.

"I'm Barry Frost. Korsak mentioned that there was a new medical examiner. My partner is waiting inside." He grinned and extended his hand.

"Mmmm a pleasure." She said, offering her hand in return. "I am Doctor Maura Isles. I just called the precinct with my findings." She ended the statement with a veiled question.

"Yea, we work for Korsak. The other guys… well, yea." Frost drifted off, not knowing how to describe his occupation.

She knew the answer before asking, of course, but it was good to have it established. These detectives were the unconventional team Korsak had mentioned. Just speaking briefly to Detective Frost had relieved the doubt she felt after dealing with the less than appealing officers earlier.

She walked into the autopsy room to find a dark-haired woman peering at the deceased.

"I would guess rape, though before or after her neck wound I couldn't say." The woman mentioned, almost casually.

"Do you always guess, detective?" It escaped her lips before Maura realized it. The playful nature remark shocked Maura. _It was so unlike her._

When the woman turned and their eyes met, her breath caught. She was by those familiar dark eyes.

_Jane._


End file.
